Cilice
by Nightmarish Black
Summary: And he does the best he can to keep a hold of his life, though it's steadily spirialing out of control. [AkuVexen]


He'd always thought of himself as the puppet master, bending the rest of the Organization to his will. The treacherous Number 8, of the full 13, plans always tap-tap-tapping just right beneath the surface, the same way his fingers are tap-tap-tap-dancing on the cold table top.

Vexen's always been cold, appraising. But now he's a bit less professional, teeth digging into Axel's ear, hands pinning his down, the brisk movements of his tongue soliciting soft little moans from the other. Axel's neck is covered in bruises, of various degrees. Right in order, like that tri-star constellation, are three fresh ones, red and angry as Vexen pulls away from his neck. Nothing can quench fire's passion but water, but right now, ice is doing the best it can.

But now the scientist gets up, leaving Axel in only his pants on the operating table.

"What're you doing?" Comes the soft question from the more volatile, laying back on the table. The freezing metal sears his back, the skin warm.

"You're always complaining about how 'boring' it is. How it's always the same." Now Vexen's looking through a cabinet. When he returns to the redhead, he has a long belt of leather in his hands, thought it's studded with something like metal barbs. "It's called a _cilice_," he explains, moving back towards Axel, who's already pulled his cloak back on. "It's origin in a religious one. _'Castigo corpus meum.' _The act of corporal mortification. Mutilating one's own body in the name of their God. Vile practice, really, but it fits you, doesn't it?" His smile is sadistic, which works well, as Axel is a masochist.

As he unzips Axel's pants, gently pulling them off of him (though he leaves the cloak on), he continues in his explanation. "It fits you, because of your own views on being a Nobody. You refuse to believe it, as those who use the _cilice_ don't stop to think it might now be what their God wants." He shrugged, dropping the pants to the floor. "Maybe not the best explanation, but it's really just an excuse."

With near-reverence, he slips the _cilice _around Axel's right upper leg, bucking it around his thigh. "If you flex your thigh muscle, it will slice into your leg. You like pain, correct?"

Axel hesitates, before nodding the affirmative, fingering the leather. "Pleasure and pain, anyways."

"'Anyways' isn't a word. Anyways." Vexen corrects him, "But who said it'd only be pain?" He pulls Axel towards him, pulling his legs around his hips, though that idea is replaced when Axel slips, knocking Vexen onto the ground with the ungraceful movement. While he absolutely despises being on the bottom, he sees what his subordinate's plan is. Axel unzips the scientist's pants, followed by the cloak.

With a flinch, Axel lowers himself onto Vexen, an eye closed. In doing so, his thigh muscle flexes, and, as promised, the metal cuts into his leg, causing him to hiss in pain. But the new pain coupled with the feeling of Vexen inside him causes his eyes to roll back in his head, and he groans loudly, bringing a smirk to Vexen's face.

Doing his best to keep fucking himself on Vexen, Axel deals with each new wave of pain, disregarding the fact that his leg's going to end up mangled and torn. Unlike most times, Axel doesn't open his mouth to talk. It's all he can do to keep sliding up and down, moans of pleasure escaping him, head throws back and eyes closed in carnal ecstasy.

"You seem to be enjoying yourself," Vexen manages to point out, thorough pauses; though he's devoid of the little noises that Axel's giving out.

He's angry at the interruption, though he provides the other with the courtesy of an answer. "It feels so goddamned good." And now he's making those pathetic little groans that he hates and Vexen loves, because it makes him feel so in control. So Vexen's enjoying himself immensely, barely keeping himself from making the same noises, so he grabs Axel's hand and squeezed it, frustrating the less patient of the pair. Freeing his hand, Axel moves Vexen's hand to his cock, which the scientist begins to stroke. And now, Axel can hardly take it, and doesn't notice that he's started crying from the combined pain of the _cilice_ and Vexen fucking him with no lube.

"Oh, god!" He half-yells and half-screams (he seems to call out to 'god' a lot), arching his back as the barbs tear ruthlessly at his leg. Axel's convinced he's going to either pass out of die, but passing out is preferable, because he can still fuck and feel it that way. But then, when he thinks he can't take it anymore and he's not sure if that's his voice he's hearing or just some figment of his imagination, he comes, and Vexen does as well, because he can hear the older man panting.

Axel barely notices when Vexen gets up and crouches beside him, removing the belt-like apparatus.

"You know," Vexen begins (or is it finishes? Axel can't tell), "The _cilice's_ original purpose was to repress lustful urges." He's wiping his hand off and discarding the rag as he tosses Axel his pants and the _cilice_. "I think it's done just the opposite for you."

And after he leaves and Axel redresses himself, he includes the _cilice_, not caring it it'll make him walk with a limp. He'll remember now, and besides, the pain feels so fucking good.


End file.
